The wan and melancholy stars
Are fading with the fading gloom,
And, through the orient's cloudy bars,
I see the rose of morning bloom.
All flushed, and fairer for the storm,
It opens on our vernal skies,
Divinely beautiful and warm,
As on the hills of Paradise.
And on its breast a shining spark,
Like a bright drop of morning dew,
Lies glittering on the rosy dark,
Then melts and mingles with the blue.
Sweet morning star! thy silver beams,
Foretell a fairer life to come;
Arouse the sleeper from his dreams
And call the wandering spirit home.
My soul, ascending like a lark,
Would follow on thine airy flight;
And like thy little diamond spark,
Dissolve into the realms of light.